


The Ballad of John Watson and Why Getting Up was Not a Good Idea

by lynarcher



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, Gen, Mary is Moran, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 03:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2094135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynarcher/pseuds/lynarcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson really needed to have stayed in bed this morning. It probably would have been the best idea. After all, he had not expecting a not dead flatmate and murderous girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of John Watson and Why Getting Up was Not a Good Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Um. So yes. I've gotten back into writing. Well, more like found the inspiration for it again. This is unbetaed and sorta my own headcannon for how S3 would have started if certain things had taken place. I don't know if I will expand on this or add more to it. But I just had a bug in my head that needed to get out.

John didn’t know what to think about the gun that was pointed to his head. He also wasn’t quite sure what to make of the person holding the gun. Nor did he know what to make of the not dead flatmate that was looking a little wild eyed. If John had known this was how the day would end… He would have just stayed in bed today.

He ran a hand over his face and let out a held in breath. What the bloody hell was he going to do? He was standing between well… He didn’t even know anymore. Words were flying around and he just. He wanted… Taking a deep breath, John let out a frustrated shout.

He barely registered the two people in the room stopping what they were doing and looking at him. “Sherlock! Sit down! I will deal with you later.” He couldn’t believe he said that. He really couldn’t. He always imagined. Well… He didn’t know what he imagined to be honest. John slowly stood up and reached out. He yanked the gun from… Well, Mary. He hadn’t expected that one.

Mary was really Moran. The sniper that had tried to kill him. The sniper that had put a bullet through his shoulder, ended his military career. He stared at her and… God. What to say? He loved her. He wanted to marry her. But now. Now… Now what? He had trust issues for a reason!

“John…” Sherlock started.

“No! You don’t get a say now shut up and stay quiet.” John ordered.

He didn’t care what Sherlock thought or whatever explanation he was trying to give. He was just trying to process everything now. He brought his clenched fist to his mouth and pointed at Mary, with the hand that held the gun. “Sit down.”

“You have two minutes to explain Mary and it better be good because I am not in a good mood today.” John finally told her. He didn’t notice the way that Sherlock was watching him or even the way that he was smiling.

“John…” Mary started, “I had no…”

“Don’t lie to me Mary. You always have a choice. Always. And you made yours which resulted in me thinking my best friend was dead for two years!” he shouted.

“Working for Moriarty wasn’t always easy.” She finally sighed.

“And so you come to me and you start a relationship with me? You shot me Mary! You ended my career in the army but also as a surgeon.” He was furious, that anger building and clawing its way to the surface and honestly he didn’t know what he was expecting.

“Your boyfriend took him from me!” she snapped. Gone was the façade of Mary Morstan and in its place was Mary Moran, the sniper that had caused so much grief in the lives of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

“Sherlock.” John said evenly, “Call Lestrade. Tell him we have a sniper.”

“You’ll turn me in?” Mary asked, “After all that we’ve been through? All that I helped you with?”

That got him to stop and he looked at her. That anger had finally stretched over him and taken him over. John Watson was terrifyingly calm when he was angry. “You did help me. And I will never forget that. You made sure, as my friend that I got up and I took care of myself and I went to work. You made sure that I lived my life and kept on moving forward. But you where the reason that Sherlock jumped off that roof. Your sniper rifle aimed at me was the reason I needed you to do that. Don’t you dare presume what I will or won’t do based on our history together.”

Mary had only seen this John a few times. The first few times had been in Afghanistan. Not that he had even known she was watching or even who she was. The most recent time was a night at the pub, a man had been bad mouthing Sherlock Holmes and then realized who John was. That night John had proven himself to be a very capable fighter. Something she hadn’t expected.

“Lestrade is on his way.” Sherlock said as he stepped back into the room.

John kept the gun aimed on Mary as he looked at Sherlock. His flatmate, his best friend. The person that people had thought he was dating. He pressed his lips into a thin line and turned away. He was angry. Angry at Mary, angry at Sherlock. Oh hell with it. He was angry at the world. Hadn’t he been through enough hell these past few years? But he wouldn’t trade it for anything. No, nothing at all.

Maybe he really shouldn’t have gotten up this morning. But he would have missed the look of pure worry on Sherlock’s face when he came running into the flat. And honestly. He wouldn’t have missed that for the world.

It was a whirlwind of a bit after Lestrade and his men arrived. John honestly expected that the Detective Inspector to punch Sherlock. But instead the man hugged him.

John finally sat down, trembling a little bit. He let the gun be taken from him and he gave his statement. He swallowed and rubbed a hand over his face. God.

“John…”

John looked up to see Sherlock standing there in front of him. He swallowed and opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

“I’m so sorry.”

He closed his eyes and then took a deep breath. John opened his eyes and got up. Without a word to Sherlock, he walked out of the flat.


End file.
